14. When finally I open my eyes, I discover my old clock on the bedside table. It produces a curious effect to be able to take one's heart between one's fingers. The cuckoo no longer works. It has dust on it. I feel like a ghost, smoking a cigarette leaning against his tombstone, except that I am alive. I wear a strange striped pajama and have two tubes connected to my veins: another botch to bear. I observe my new heart without needles. It makes no noise. How long have I been sleeping? I get up with difficulty. My bones hurt. Méliès has disappeared. Installed in his office, there is a woman dressed all in white. A new conquest of Méliès, I suppose. I wave to her. She startles as if she had just seen a living dead. Her hands tremble. I think I've finally managed to scare someone.